


Aftermath and Revival

by cyndaquillians



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 10:28:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2266329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyndaquillians/pseuds/cyndaquillians
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo left Erebor forever to return to the Shire. He did not have the energy for the long journey home, so he stopped short, realizing soon afterwards that it was one of the best decisions that he had ever made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath and Revival

**Author's Note:**

> In response to a request for a Bilbo/Bard mpreg by Queenofshire405.

Bilbo rode away from the mountain still in a state of shock. Gandalf insisted that he should take a pony and a small chest of gold, but Bilbo did not care if he did or not. He never realized that his journey would come to an end, but Gandalf had pointed him in the direction of Lake-town and sent him on his way. It’s all over, he kept thinking to himself. Technically, they did accomplish their goal; they won back Erebor from Smaug and then protected it form the forces of evil, but its cost was too great to imagine. He had betrayed the trust of someone who was proving to be one of the greatest friends he ever had by stealing the Arkenstone. He though that in doing so, he would prevent a deadly battle, but it came anyway. Thorin and both of his nephews were dead. Countless others were still being pulled from the battle field and lowered into their final resting place.

The hobbit had no desire to go home. He figured that he was still several days away from reaching Lake-town, so he continued through the forest feeling numb and not quite understanding what he should do with himself. At night, he stopped to rest. He would tie the pony to a tree and then fall deep into a dreamless sleep. He would not wake up until late in the afternoon, and even then, it was a struggle to find the motivation to stand up. The thought of lying forever on his bead of leaves until he sunk into the dirt and became fertilizer for the trees, seemed extremely comforting to him. He had not eaten in days despite the bag of apples that Gandalf somehow managed to find and tied to the pony, opposite of the chest. Bilbo fed them all to the pony, emptying the sack the day before he reached Lake-town.

As the sun disappeared and the trees became shadowy, Bilbo rested against the pony’s shoulder for warmth and soon dozed off. When he awoke, the sun was directly above him, streaming though the tree tops. He nudged the pony awake and reached into the sack for an apple. “Sorry, boy, I forgot you ate all of them,” he mumbled before climbing on its back to start that day’s travels. He hummed to himself quietly, and within a few hours, he could see the glistening lake in the distance. The town at the center no longer stood. It had been burned down by Smaug, but efforts to rebuild had already begun. Skeletons of buildings had been erected, some of them almost completely constructed. He heard rumors that Bard was the new master, and naturally that man would not waste any time.

The mere thought of the bow man was almost enough to bring Bilbo out of his slump. Bilbo had entirely forgotten about that wonderful night he spent with Bard. He never told a soul for it was not exactly something that Gandalf or Thorin or the rest of the company, for that matter, would approve of. He remembered the night that they were discovered by the master, Bilbo had no desire to join in with the town’s merriment. He snuck away from the dwarves, assuming that no one would miss him and wandered through the empty streets. At last, he found Bard, staring at a tapestry, muttering an ancient prophesy to himself. Finally Bard looked up and locked his glare onto the hobbit. “This is going to end in fire,” he said.

“It will be alright,” Bilbo assured him.

“No, it won’t.” The bowman pointed towards the master’s hall, where almost the entire town was celebrating. “They do not understand what is about to happen. They have not realized how many people are going to have to die. Did they forget the fire and destruction of that damned worm? How much blood has to be spilt just so those fools can take back their ‘homeland’?” He had emphasized each word bitterly, and Bilbo could still feel the sharpness of his voice. How correct was he? The body count was unbearable, but now the Lonely Mountain belonged once again to the dwarves. Bard could take almost all of the credit, if any one would give it to him, for he was the one to actually kill the dragon and save his town from an almost complete massacre. He would see that, in the long run, things would improve. Lake-town would be rebuilt and possibly even Dale. Erebor my one day return to its former glory in honor of the heirs of Durin, and all would be fine.

“Thorin has no ill intentions,” Bilbo replied.

“But he chooses to ignore the consequences. My people lead a harsh life to begin with and we do not need to once again live in fear of being incinerated.”

“We’ll take care of Smaug,” Bilbo told him. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Bard sat the tapestry back on its table and sighed. “How do you expect to kill a dragon,” he spoke softly, “that could use you as a tooth pick, with no weapon that is remotely sharp enough to pierce its scales?”

“We’ll find a way.” Bilbo grinned optimistically. He then watched as Bard bent over the table no longer able to support himself with tears streaming from his eyes. Each tear fell onto the dusty fabric of the tapestry, washing away the dirt. The cloth was almost revitalized and revealed the prophecy that the bowman had been whispering. “It will be alright,” the hobbit repeated over and over again. He placed his hand on Bard’s shoulder. He was never good at comforting others, but he would try his best. That was when the man fell to his knees to be at eye level with the hobbit and kissed him gently.

So much had happened since that night. It all seemed surreal and Bilbo was still unsure exactly how much would change. Certainly his life would never be the same. He would never be able to return to the simplicity of his life in the Shire. Bard’s life probably changed just as much, if not more. The bowman would probably never sail another barge in his life. He was now in a position of power where he would rebuild the entire town, create a new social structure and ensure that the hundreds of inhabitants were housed and fed. Bard’s life had obviously changed for the better, but Bilbo still had doubts about how his own had changed.

As the hobbit crossed the makeshift bridge to the wooden rafts around which the town was being built, he could see his reflection in the water. He had expected to be a lot thinner. He could not even remember the last time that he ate, but as he glanced at the lake below him, his stomach looked slightly rounder than it ever had before. He did not bother to think about why this might have happened. It currently seemed irrelevant to him and he was too excited about finding Bard to care.

Bilbo looked around the building site, but the bowman was nowhere to be seen. He had no clue how he could find Bard. Everything around him seemed too chaotic. There were people tearing down the remains of charred buildings that still stood. Others were busy constructing new buildings on the other side of the town. Even more people were on the far side of the lake, cutting down trees for wood. Even Mirkwood elves were sent to help rebuild the town after they all gained a sense of unity after the Battle of the Five Armies. Those were too old or sick to work were organizing the tents that were situated by the forest for a temporary home.

Finally Bilbo found Bard directing a group of the elves on where to place the next house. He held a large blueprint in one hand, and with the other he showed them exactly where to place the posts that would be pushed into the bed of the lake. When he was finished, he turned around and tripped over the hobbit who was standing directly behind him. He dropped the blueprint just before he crashed into the lake. Frantically, Bilbo helped him out, but Bard seemed frozen in shock. “You’re alive,” he whispered, ignoring the elves who were giggling at his clumsiness. The bowman was thankful to the water dripping from his hair to hide his watery eyes. He had heard that Thorin and his nephews were dead, but no one ever mentioned a hobbit.

“You were worried?” Bilbo asked him, wishing that the elves would stop laughing and go away.

“Of course I was.” Bard fell into the hobbit’s arms. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, the Shire is far away. I don’t think I have the energy for another long journey, and I would miss you too much if I did. I would like to stay here, if you would have me.”

“Please stay,” Bard said, wrapping his arms tighter around Bilbo. He then recomposed himself and stood up. He tried to wring out his hair and picked up the blue print. He pointed at the clearing were all of the trees were already cut down and said, “You could wait over there, and I’ll meet you when we are done for the day.” He shrugged, not sure where else he could put the hobbit.

“But I want to help.”

“Of course you do.” Bard smiled. He pointed again except this time at his son, who was helping a group of people carry logs over to the rafts. “They could probably use some help.”

Bilbo nodded and went over to the pile of felled trees. He waited for the group to come back to grab a new log. The day wore on quickly, and the work almost made Bilbo forget all of the terrible things that happened within the past two weeks. When the day’s work was done and small fires were lit between the clusters of tents, Bilbo went to the clearing to wait for Bard. He sighted the man in the nearest group of tents. Bard stood by a fresh fire and waved the hobbit over to him. Bilbo followed him into the tent that he shared with his son and daughter. “The kids won’t be back for a few hours,” he explained. “They’re both spending time with friends, apparently.” He smiled gently. “They said there were with friends, no one more than that. I don’t believe them.”

“You probably shouldn’t,” Bilbo replied. “But it’s only natural. There’s nothing to worry about.” He sat down next to the pole that held up the cloth. “So, what do you think you are going to do now?”

“Now?”

“I mean after you rebuild the town.”

“As much as I love Esgaroth,” Bard started,” after we finish rebuilding it, I think I am going to have to move on. There will be plenty left in our part of the worm’s treasure to possibly rebuild Dale. No to the extent of the greatness that it held before, but that may come later. For now,” he sighed, “this will have to do.” He leaned over and kissed Bilbo with as much passion as he had the first time. He pulled Bilbo’s clothes off and then situated the hobbit onto his lap. Bilbo rested his head on Bard’s shoulder until the man kissed him again. Bard’s hands travelled down Bilbo’s body until they reached between the hobbit’s legs.

Bilbo tugged on the corners of Bard’s shirt in pleasure and then lifted it over the man’s head. He then sat back so he could untie Bard’s pants releasing the man’s already throbbing erection. “Tell me you want me inside of you,” the bowman growled.

“I do,” Bilbo whispered in his ear. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Then just stick your little bum up,” Bard told him. He pushed the hobbit off of him and then bent him over the bedroll. The man reached around and stuck his fingers into the hobbit’s mouth before he fingered his ass. As he added one finger after the other, Bilbo began to practically beg to be fucked, and both of them were dripping with precum. Bard slid himself into Bilbo’s well-prepared hole, in and out until they both came and collapsed, one on top of the other.


End file.
